


On Spirits and Finer Things

by BombGirlPow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 12:23:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11828685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BombGirlPow/pseuds/BombGirlPow
Summary: Before his departure for East Watch and the Wall beyond, Tyrion invites the King in the North and the others to a round of drinks. The conversation soon moves on to something of a more personal nature for Jon.This is my 4th entry for A Fortnight of Jonerys. Prompt submitted by @mikimiska13





	On Spirits and Finer Things

**Author's Note:**

> I loved writing this. Hope you all like it too.

If tonight was to be the last night The King in the North spent at Dragonstone, it was absolutely a requirement that he drink himself stupid.

Or so Tyrion had insisted.

Jon of course was against the idea, voicing his desire to keep a clear mind in the face of his next objective. His most trusted man however - the voice of reason and restraint in Jon’s life - betrayed him and agreed wholeheartedly with the Dwarf of Casterly Rock that yes, what better way to greet a suicide mission than to drink while one was still alive? The ship taking them to East Watch would take several days time to reach their destination, so however piss drunk they got it would matter little in the scope of what was to come.

Crafty smuggling bastard.

He relented, and allowed Tyrion to fill his cup to the brim with some fragrant wine that was hardly to his taste after years of drinking nothing but soured ale.

The dwarf, who had been already drinking several hours before, filled his own once again, and passed the jug around the table. Gendry sniffed It, clearly not used to wine, especially not one as fine as the red Tyrion had chosen, and sipped it curiously. “You know I never imagined wine would taste so bitter - high born folk make it seem so luxurious, but there are far better spirits out there.”

Davos interjected, “Ah, I felt the same as you when I had my first taste. It grows on you, surely, but I do agree - some of the liquors of Essos and beyond could pale even the finest of wines from Dorne.”

Tyrion gasped, clearly offended, “You men are simply barbarians. You're insulting my life’s blood.”

Ser Jorah, who was to accompany the men going North had been quiet up until this point. Jon wasn't sure of the man. He had heard disparaging stories about him while a part of the Night’s Watch - but Tyrion had seemed friendly enough towards him, and he seemed a close confidant of Daenerys...almost borderlining on the improper. Jon wasn't really sure what to think about that either now that he thought about it. 

The old seasoned Knight looked down beneath the table and dug about in a knapsack. “How's Summer Isle Rum sound to you boys? A friend gave it to me while I was at the Citadel.”

Davos’s face lit up immediately, “Now that's a fine proper drink right there! I haven't had Summer Isle Rum since I was about the age of some of you younger lads. It'll put hair on your chest.”

This peaked Tyrion’s interested considerably, “Any excuse to get more intoxicated is fine by me. Pass it around old man.”

Jon watched as Jorah took a small swig and passed it off to Gendry, who smiled and raised a brow upon tasting it. “Much better. Closer to what I'm used to and yet completely different at the same time. Exotic even.”

Jon took it into his hands as Davos excitedly regaled the group about what exactly goes into a spiced Sothoryos spirit such as this, and took a deep swig. Which was a mistake. He had no clue what rum was or how potent it could possibly be. He started coughing and sputtering the liquor up.

“My King...oh gods! Rum is to be sipped!” Davos jumped up, bewildered. 

Tyrion cackled and patted Jon on the back, “Oho! And you said you didn't want to drink! This is a right proper festivity now! I'm going to have to play catch up!” He swiped the skin from his hands and took an equal swig with ease, clearly more proficient in the game of drinking.

A few more moments of coughing and Jon’s throat finally settled. He found that his whole body went warm and the spices played upon his tongue pleasingly. He shook his head. “You really could've said something instead of bleating on about exotic fruits. Holy hells.” everyone around the table laughed. 

The evening went on quite a bit like this, with light chatter about travels and more on exotic lands. It was nice hearing about warmer climes than the ice he was accustomed to. He even found himself a bit jealous when Tyrion and Jorah started going on about vast swaths of deserts back in Essos. Anything but glacier and tundra. 

He tilted his head back and sighed. Perhaps they were right. It was good to unwind a little bit. After everything that he's seen and everything he's been through, it was a welcome respite he didn't know he needed. It reminded him of better days before he knew of Wights and White Walkers, sitting around the great hall of Castle Black with his brothers. It reminded him of Sam’s warm laugh, Edd’s cynical jabs and Grenn and Pyp’s constant bickering. 

His face fell immediately upon remembering his old friends. So many lives lost. And it was only just the beginning. 

It was if the entire room had picked up upon his mood turning sour, tales of intrigue weaning off to the sidelines and curious glances shared between the rest of the men.

This of course irritated Lord Tyrion considerably, as he had wanted lively drinking company for months and had been denied it for far too long. He decided to change the topic of landscapes and adventures past for a more jovial topic, a topic every drinking man relishes in and boasts of. “The lush flora and fauna of Essos is certainly a sight to behold,” he started, “but what of the gods’ greatest of creations? Women! I argue that some of the most savory and intriguing of all women reside in Essos and I refuse to hear of any argument that refutes this!” 

This of course livened up the conversation considerably and was met with bawdy laughter and smiles around. Even Jon, in his drunken state, left his dour reverie behind and forgotten in favor of cracking a broad smile. 

Davos decided to take the bait, “I don't know My Lord, I've known and loved many damsels from everywhere between Sothoryos to lands of Leng and I must say my Marya is still the only woman who owns my heart.”

The men groaned in response, not wanting to hear of domestic conquest and voiced as such.

Davos stood his ground however, mildly offended, “Well when you live up to be a ripe old shit like me you realize after a while that what really matters is a woman who waits for you, who loves you despite the all the crap you put her through and somehow manages to stick around even with all your faults. Believe you me, when you're my age you'll say as much.” 

Though it wasn't exactly what they wanted to hear, they couldn't deny the man’s message and decided to act turncloak upon their previous uproar to loudly voice their support for it. Such were drunken men’s fancies - flighty and excitable.

Jon slapped Davos’s back in comradery, while Gendry ruffled his hair, cooing that he hopes he could be just like him when he grows up. The old Knight merely swatted them off and cursed their names briefly before joining in on the laughter. 

Once again Tyrion decided to take the reigns of the conversation to try and steer it in a more interesting direction, “And what of you Gendry Waters? What type of women have you conquered in your travels? Surely a young virile pup like yourself has more interesting fare for the group?” 

Gendry’s eyes went wide, surprised towards having the spotlight, and grinned, “I've known a few women here or there.” He shrugged, somewhat uncomfortable with sharing, “but nothing of real interest.”

The Queen’s Hand rolled his eyes, “Please don't be so modest. It's painfully dull. Surely a woman or two have at least caught your eye?”

Gendry tilted his head, as if in deep thought and took another gulp of wine. “Aye...there’s a girl who’s caught my eye...I haven't seen her in a long time though.” He smiled a little bit, memories enveloping him amongst the heady haze of wine and rum. 

Tyrion pressed on, displeased with having draw everything out of him, “Well, what did she look like?” 

“Um...she had dark hair...large grey eyes, like the sky here at Dragonstone. She was petite too, pretty, and short and wispy.” He looked around the group, somewhat at a loss. In his drunken daze Jon momentarily thought Gendry shot him a worried glance, but it was so brief that he decided to chalk it up to the drink instead. He continued, “But it really was just the way she held herself. It was like the world couldn't touch her. Like no matter where she would end up she was above it all, whip smart and two steps ahead.” He laughed, fondness overtaking his eyes, “She wanted me to go with her. I really wish I had. I found out recently that she's still alive and well and I hope to be seeing her in a couple weeks time. You know, if all goes well.”

The men nodded their heads and patted the boy on the back, satisfied that the lad would be reunited with his love again. It seemed like such a rare thing in the world nowadays, with the fallout of the War of the Five Kings, far reaching famine, and now the undead bearing down upon them from beyond the Wall. Jon couldn't help but feel somewhat hopeful for the first time in months. He was feeling so good as a matter of fact- drink emboldening his otherwise thoughtful nature -that he decided to join in on their conversation, throwing caution into the wind. 

“Aye, you know I always found a maiden who knows what she wants far more desirable than one who pines away in some tower somewhere. Those tales always drove me mad when I was a young lad.” He took another swig of wine, unmindful towards the world spinning, “Give me a Nymeria or Visenya over a Jonquil any day.”

This was met with curious stares from all but Gendry, who merely nodded in agreement. Jon of course was oblivious towards the possible implication that the words might have upon the men he drank with whilst a guest within the Dragon Queen’s keep. Who more matches the description of Queen Daenerys better than that the two foreign Conquerors Nymeria and Visenya?

Davos grinned, looking at Jon with the eyes of a proud father. Jorah gave him a questioning and mistrustful glance, attempting to ascertain his exact meaning. Tyrion did what he does best - pour himself another glass of wine and pry further into conversation, “Indeed? What say, pray tell, would this warrior woman of your dreams look like?” his voice was curious and amused, as if attempting to goad Jon into saying the exact words they were all thinking. 

The wine warmed his face and brought a smile to his lips. “I suppose i've always fancied fairer women...perhaps red or gold of hair.” He thought of Ygritte in that moment, before her face shifted briefly to that of a woman he's had his eyes on for weeks while staying at Dragonstone. An impossible match. He sighed as a slight blush crept upon his face. No time for things like that at all but perhaps in another world...he continued, “but I agree with Gendry. The character of a woman is even more important than her beauty. Someone intellectually capable and solid in her convictions, and yet harbors a good heart in the face of adversity.”

“What's all this about hearts and adversity?”

The men turned their heads all at once to see the Silver Queen and her adviser Missandei enter the room unannounced. She had an amused look upon her face, “I didn't catch the first part of that conversation.” She sat between Ser Jorah and her Hand, “And I was completely unaware of this gathering. Am I not invited to the festivities?”

Jon’s blush crept up even further with the Queen in his presence. Surely she was telling the truth and heard none of it? He shifted uncomfortably, and decided to hide his expression behind a cup of wine. It was all hypotheticals anyways. He didn't say anything about any one particular woman...even if perhaps he meant it if he was being honest with himself.

Tyrion poured her and Missandei a cup and leaned back in his seat, an expression of mock offense playing upon his face “It would wound me greatly if you thought that, your Grace. Your presence always desired - this was merely an impromptu send off for our honored guests traveling north of the Wall.”

Jon huffed out a breath, thankful for Lord Tyrion’s distraction.

She raised a graceful brow, expression playful, “And what of the conversation I walked in on?”

Fuck. 

Tyrion spoke up once again, nodding towards the King in the North, “Jon here was just telling everyone about what he thinks of you. That you have a good heart in the face of adversity.”

He choked on his wine. Double fuck. He was going to kill the dwarf later for this. 

Her face remained a mix of amused stoicism, betraying no hint of surprise. She sipped upon her wine, “Well, those are very kind words Lord Snow.” She paused, expression falling to something more flat, “though for the life of me, I can't figure why you would praise me so and yet still refuse to bend the knee.”

It was like cold snap had instantly hit the room, jovial mood completely extinguished. The men looked towards each other nervously, unsure of how to contain the possible fallout between the two monarchs.

Jon felt like a bucket of ice water had washed over him, fond thoughts of the Dragon Queen completely flying out the doors. Surely he was imagining things, and she had not just brought up the tired trope of kneeling once again, in front of everybody. 

His temper threatened to get the better of him, control over his emotions dulled by the drink, “Aye...this again.” He set his own cup down, though with much more force than necessary, and continued, “Well, fret not Your Grace,” he nearly spat her title out, “I'll be out of your hair shortly.”

Her frown deepened, edge thin like a knife, barely contained fury in her eyes. “Everyone out. I would like to have further words with Jon Snow.”

It was as if they were aboard a sinking ship, the men and Missandei got up so fast to flee the oncoming storm. Only Jorah wavered in his departure, unsure of his Queens safety with a man he didn't know. “Your Grace are you sure you should-”

She shot him a withering glare, her fury almost palpable. “I am. Leave us.” He got up at once, eyes hurt, and departed behind the rest of them. 

Once alone, she turned towards the target of her ire, “You mean to disrespect me by throwing my title around with such disdain in your voice whilst in my keep?!”

Jon stood upon his legs, headless of the world spinning faster, anger too great to contain, “Aye! Like your disdain for my own in front of my men. You have yet to address me properly and while I consider myself a man that doesn't harbor away slights easily, I feel as if you're doing so to purposefully undermine and get a rise out of me.” He stalked before her, inches barely apart and met her angry glare with his own. 

She briefly flinched, his close proximity unexpected, before she regained her composure and stood her ground. “You expect far too much! Not only do you expect me to drop everything i'm doing in this war with Cersei Lannister, fork over MY forces and MY dragons for your cause, take one of MY men on some absurd suicide mission to force an amnesty with said false queen, you want me to allow all of this whilst I call you King?!” 

Her breathing became agitated - fury barely contained. Eyes afire and full lips quivering. Jon couldn't help but glance down at them. His head was swimming - he had gotten up far too fast and nearly regretted leaving his chair. He didn't realize how much he had to drink.

“You don't agree with my decision to go North?” he asked, eyes trailing from her lips to her bosom, chest heaving beneath her tight bodice in anger. He shook his head and looked back into her eyes hoping she missed his glance. If she did see, she didn't voice as such.

“It sounds like a heroic act...though one acted upon with too much haste and little thought about the possible consequences.” She shifted upon her feet and sighed, frustration evident in her eyes, “You go into dangerous territory. Are you so sure you can make it back unscathed?”

His eyes widened at what he was hearing, understanding dawning upon him. Is this what everything was about? Was her anger misplaced and she was merely acting upon other frustrations? He let out a sigh of relief and smiled, drawing a confused and almost insulted look from her. “Are you worried for my safety, Your Grace?”

Perhaps he was being far too bold in his assumptions. Perhaps he had far too much to drink and should've excused himself long ago before he could play the part of a fool. But he stayed and watched her eyes flicker with something...something he couldn't place. Was that shock? Surprise that she had been found out? Care?

“I…” she licked her lips, suddenly nervous, “I worry for all of you.” She said hastily, eyes darting to the floor, all anger sapped, “It would be tragic if strife should befall you. You know I'm not a terrible person, I don't wish you harm or any-”

He kissed her, caution thrown into the wind. She stiffened immediately upon the contact - surprise etched upon her lovely features. 

Before she could think or react or pull away, his hand shot up to softly caress her face, a gentleness she had yet to know from any other. He tasted of spices and wine, and smelled of rainfall and the musk of furs that he so liked to wear. She felt herself melt into it, against all thought and restraint. 

The door to solar clicked open and she pulled away hastily, heady desire still painting her cheeks a flushed red. Jorah’s head poked through, worry upon his face. “Khaleesi? You've been gone for quite some time. Forgive me, but I thought to look in on you-”

She shook her head, attempting clear away the thoughts rapidly firing away in her mind. What had just happened? What had come over him? Hells, what had come over her? 

“I-I’m fine Ser Jorah.” She stuttered, desperate to regain her composure. Jon stood a foot or so away from her, wavering slightly upon his feet with drink, embarrassment and lust painting his face red. 

Jorah looked between the two of them, a mixture sadness and knowing within his eyes. He nodded quietly, and went to excuse himself.

“It's alright my Lord.” Jon added hastily before he could depart, “I was just about to return to my quarters.” he nodded to Daenerys before leaving, “Goodnight Your Grace. I apologize for my previous outburst. The drink must've dulled my wits, and I misspoke.”

She shook her head, thoughts still flying a mile a minute, heart fluttering wildly in the wake of their actions. “It is I who misspoke...surely.”

He smiled gently and turned to take his leave. “Good night Your Grace.” 

“Good night...Jon.”

The following morning, upon the beach before the Northerner’s departure, Dany cornered Jon once more before he took his leave.

He made no mention of the kiss they shared, just as she hadn't. Perhaps he didn't remember - Davos said the King was sporting a massive hangover from the night before. She still wasn't sure of what to make of it, but couldn't deny the quickening pace of her heart in his presence. 

He squinted his eyes, sun clearly bothering him, “Well, if I don't return you won't have to deal with the King in the North anymore.” he said, a smile playing upon his handsome features. 

Dany fought to keep her face neutral, nervous thoughts of last night flying about her mind. “I've grown used to him.” she couldn't help but smile in kind. 

He looked pensive for a moment, and she thought briefly that perhaps he did remember the kiss they shared last night after all. But instead he settled upon, “I wish you good luck with the wars to come.” and departed. He didn't remember…

She sighed. Perhaps it was for the best...


End file.
